


Watching

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pregnancy, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-13
Updated: 2006-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel can't help it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching

She eyes you strangely and you know that she's caught onto your stares. The two of you are sprawled on the living room floor, palms and the balls of your feet supporting your weight as you stretch out your calves.  
You feel like a teenager sneaking glances (that you know she can't help but notice) at her well-shaped ass, at the muscles of her legs.

You aren't sure whether it’s the yoga or the view that's making it so damn hard to breathe, but you keep going because if the very pregnant Agent Bristow beside you can hold each pose with ease, than you'd damn well be able to.

"You've never been a field agent," your calf muscles scream, and you pant a little as Sydney shifts her weight.

"I think that's enough for today, huh, Rachel?" She moves, somehow gracefully into a sitting position. It takes you a moment to get your body and mind to follow suit, but in a few seconds the two of you are side by side, sitting Indian style, hands stretched high over head. Your two hands are laced together because that’s the only way you know to keep from grasping at her own slender fingers.

Her eyes are closed and her breathing is steady. You are tempted to think that the tiny smile playing itself across her lips is because of you, but it is more likely amusement at your preoccupation with her. Or perhaps she is noticing how out of breath you are with a few simple yoga exercises. You brush it off; it's not your fault you've sat at a desk the last 5 years of your life.

At least you don't think you are making her nervous with your constantly intercepted stares. She's used to having all eyes on her. It comes with the job.

You are caught up again in watching her stretch out. Your eyes drift slowly from her elegant fingers which twitch slightly with the changes in music. You wonder if she's even conscious of her movements and the thought that she might be letting herself go excites you. Your line of sight moves down her arms, muscular and sleek to her bowed head. Her ordinary brown hair is pulled back in a pony tail but you are fascinated with the sweaty tendrils clinging to her neck.

She takes a deep breath, the movement inviting your eyes to venture lower to the curve of her breasts. Your imagination escapes your control, and you have to suck in your bottom lip and bite it hard to keep from moaning a little when an image of your pale hands palming her full chest flashes into your mind.

She must have noticed the change in your breathing, because she blinks open her eyes and turns to look shyly at you. She smiles a little, her eyes glistening, and she drops her hands. "You’re staring, Rachel," she says, blinking again slowly. Her eyelashes are momentary contrast to her pink cheeks.

You drop your arms as well and release your lip. You aren’t sure what to say, so you find yourself nodding a little in acquiescence.

"I don't mind, really. But the way you look at me…" She trails off.

You bite your lip again. You weren't expecting a confrontation, and you aren’t even sure yourself exactly what you feel for Sydney, except to say that you are attracted to her. You certainly admire her. You aren't sure what that equates to. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable." It's not what you mean to say at all, but those are the words that fall from your lips.

Her eyes light up. "Oh! No, I was just thinking… that it's nice to be looked at by someone who doesn't make me feel like my morning sickness has started up again. You… don't make me uncomfortable." She smiles again, shy.

You are definitely glad to be differentiated in her mind from Sloane, whom you are sure she is referring to. After all, you've seen the way his lecherous gaze sweeps her form. You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, not sure what this means. It seems like she has said something quite profound. Perhaps you should be reading between the lines here, but all you see is her, smiling sweetly, blushing a little. "I'm glad," you say, and feel vastly incompetent to the task of voicing your feelings.

"I mean… I like having you to watch over me."

You know she doesn't need watching over; she's the one watching over you. You can't help hearing something else in her words, I like having you watch me, and you wonder if she's just not ready to say it yet.

She holds her hands out to you. "Help me up?"

You rise, pushing your hands against your thighs for leverage, and take both of her hands in yours. Yes, they feel just how you imagined. Cool to the touch, but a warmth underneath that makes you want to never let go. As you hold steady, she pulls herself up; difficult with the extra weight of the pregnancy. When she is standing, you don't let go right away.

For a moment the whole universe is enclosed right there. It is the two of you, standing a little too close together, and something intangible passing through your gripped hands.

When you do let go it is to brush an errant hair from her face. You smile when she doesn't shy from your touch. You think that you could get used to this. And you think that she could too.


End file.
